


So It Does Exist

by nobetterlove



Series: Paint & Grease [1]
Category: 13 Reasons Why (TV)
Genre: AU, Friends to Lovers, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Love, M/M, Mechanics, Romance, Schmoop, alternatre universe, artist, cuteness, older!clay, pinning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-30
Updated: 2017-05-30
Packaged: 2018-11-06 21:31:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11044740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nobetterlove/pseuds/nobetterlove
Summary: Clay is the older guy across the street that Tony can't help but want more than anything else. One summer, Clay comes back from college for good and some things are discovered.





	So It Does Exist

**Author's Note:**

> Ay yo! I'm finally back from my honeymoon and done with school for the next few months, so I figured this little plot bunny that's been in my head for ages finally needed to come to life. It's gonna be some one shots that I add to whenever I'm just wanting to write something a little different. Expect an update on Do I Feel Lucky later today. Hope you guys enjoy this one. I'm a sucker for artist!clay. As always, thanks for the read!

With a rag in his hand, Tony moved to polish the tailpipe of his Ducati. He'd been fiddling with the thing since he saw the small u-haul pull up against the Jensen's curb. The boy knew exactly who was in that trailer and wanted nothing more than to see the guy in person. Clay Jensen, the friendly older kid that always includes Tony in everything, back from college for what seemed like the foreseeable future. If the u-haul said anything, at least. Since realizing how cool Clay was, Tony practically lived for the summers.

Being only a couple years apart, there wouldn't be such a gap between them if it weren't for Clay being so damn smart. The older boy skipped a couple grades when they were younger, suddenly becoming four years in front of him instead of two. Tony remembered being excited to ride the bus with Clay every morning only to be sorely disappointed when he never got on. Then, he noticed the kid getting on the middle school bus, instead. His hopes of sitting next to the older kid were as fleeting as the bus he wasn't on. From that point on, Tony noticed the boy from afar. By the time Tony was finally in high school, Clay was finishing up his last year, looking into colleges and not possibly into freshman with crushes. Despite the gap, despite the overactive schedule, Clay still tried to include him, however. The thought alone kept him hanging on, even if it did feel just a little bit pathetic. 

A warm pit opened up in the bottom of his stomach at the thought. Even now, several years later, Tony couldn't deny his lifelong crush was still around. Every summer Clay came back, Jeep packed full, the two would hangout. They started by playing video games, then as they got older, passing a joint back and forth talking about classes and summer jobs. The further into high school Tony got, the more his dad expected him to work, so their time diminished over the passed couple of years. He and Clay exchanged texts every now and again, but the older guy was always busy studying, so the conversations were few and far between. Wanting to be a doctor took a toll on someone, he supposed. Finally, after so many years of being just the slightest bit too far away, Tony was finally close enough to Clay to maybe have a chance. The graduation hat he wore the Saturday before still laid on his desk, reminding him of finally getting out of that place, out of the one thing keeping him stuck so young. He'd been waiting his whole life to grow up and it was finally happening. 

As a graduation gift, his father gave him the summer off to enjoy some freedom before putting him to work in one of the family garages in the early fall. Upon hearing the news, Tony immediately thought of Clay and hoped the boy would be back for the summer like usual. Time, his main nemesis, was finally on his side. The squeak of the u-haul pulling up not long before he came out to work on the bike fueled his excitement. The prospect of possible time with the older guy set his nerves on fire. He didn't care to admit it, but he'd been watching the calendar, counting the days til graduation and summer... and all the gorgeous things that it brought with him. 

As if the universe was listening to his inner monologue, the guy of his thoughts walked down his parent's driveway, looking every bit the wet dream he'd been to Tony for longer than he thought appropriate. He remembered all the times he had to avert his eyes from the guy's legs, the limbs seemingly going on for days and days. The amount of times he thought about them wrapping around his hips was obscene. Brown eyes moved up, chasing the light of the day on barely sun kissed skin. The guy left his paleness behind years ago, the sudden change the first time he saw it making Tony curse the universe; unattainable and tan... a tease for the books. Finally, the bluest of blue pools were connected with his. Those eyes were his favorite, had always been. The shade was something pleasantly unnerving, the color never quite the same. They were his downfall. They were what haunted his dreams and fueled the fantasies he couldn't keep at bay. Late at night, blue depths would swallow him up, following him into sleep. 

The owner of those particular eyes smiled at him warmly, cheeks dimpling the smallest smidgen. A big hand came up, waving lightly a couple times back and forth. "Tony Padilla. Trading up I see," Clay said in greeting, pointing a slender finger to the bike he'd been pretending to work on. Tony glanced down, feeling blush on his cheeks accumulating. He could be so smooth without thought... yet Clay brought him to his knees. "Too right, Jensen. I just put this baby together. Don't worry, though. The Mustang is still in the garage." Tony blushed further, cursing his overactive mouth. He rarely spoke more than a handful of words to anyone. What was it about his neighbor that brought out the word smith? Clay shot him another smile, nodding and easing a bit of his self consciousness. "Good. Can't be summer without a little joyride in that beauty." Clay kept the smile on his face, even as he averted his attention to the trailer he'd been on his way to open. Tony held his breath excitedly, glad to know the other at least thought about him a little, too. 

Tony threw the rag over the seat of the bike, getting up from the stool. His legs protested slightly, as they always did when he got stuck behind his latest work too long. To wake them up, he closed the gap between their houses, feet carrying him across the street. "Do you want some help? This is more than the usual summer carload," Tony remarked, stepping up next to the older guy. For a second, he could've sworn Clay paled, the guy's habit whenever he didn't want to talk about something rearing its head. He seemed to recover quickly, the same big hand he admired earlier coming to slap him on the shoulder. "I'm back, back. For good. Mom and Pop Jensen have been kind enough to give me my old room back." Clay spoke quickly, though Tony could hear the disappointment in the guy's voice. Something wasn't sitting quite right about this move. He'd need to get to the bottom of that some time or another.

"And I'd love some help," Tony heard, the words bringing him back around. The shorter boy nodded, smiling lightly. "There's some beer for you on the tail end as a thanks. We need to catch up, anyway." By then, Clay seemed to be talking to himself more than Tony, but he nodded again, every piece of him perking up. That was exactly what he'd been hoping for. 

\--- 

Several boxes and a couple beers later, Tony found himself sitting in the Jensen's garage, feet propped on Clay's miniature pool table they hauled inside earlier. The heat of the early summer was suffocating in the small space, but the beer was cold and refreshing as it slid down his throat. The older guy sitting across from him no longer wore a shirt, his pale torso on display, glistening with little rivulets of sweat. Clay complained not long into their work about the heat, pulling it off without another thought. Not for the first time since sitting down, Tony thanked whatever God was up there. Things were shaping up the exact way that he wanted them to. 

Taking another sip, Tony readjusted his position on the little chair, his butt getting numb if he sat for a little too long in one spot. The movement brought Clay out of whatever little trance he'd been in. Blue eyes lit up, the slightest bit of drunkenness working to enhance the color instead of hinder it. "So, Mr. Graduate. Any big plans?" Clay mumbled, the beer in his hands following the words back to his mouth. Tony smirked, looking down at his own bottle. "Same old thing, man. I need something to do with my hands. The garage is always gonna be my home." To demonstrate, he brought up grease stained fingers, wiggling them in Clay's direction. "These are for life." He winked at the corniness of the joke, laughing softly at the snort-like laugh that left Clay's lips. They'd been ripped up together plenty, but something was different about this time. Clay... he was different. 

"I always thought that was the coolest part of you. You know what you want. Have always known what you want," Clay's words were a little muddled, the taller guy getting up and grabbing the soccer ball sitting on the top of one of their hastily made piles. Long fingers gripped it, Clay palming the small ball in his hand. Tony felt hypnotized by the movement, his own beer count starting to creep up on him. "Unlike me. Doctor, biologist... who the fuck knows." Tony watched as Clay switched the ball from hand to hand, the older guy obviously dealing with whatever shit brought him back here, what was slowly changing him. He said nothing, content to sit and listen, to observe someone he'd only seen from afar for so long. 

"I got into medical school. I got in and you know what sucks?" Clay turned to him, the question being directed towards him. Tony perked up, shrugging his shoulders. "Nope, what sucks?" Tony responded, genuinely confused and interested in what crazy thing was happening. "What sucks is that I don't want to go. What sucks is I left everything behind to come back here and be an artist. A fucking artist!" Clay's voice was a pitch too loud, striking a different sort of chord. For the first time, Tony realized just how much Clay needed to be saying this, how much the need to talk was pulling through. "Why does that suck? Don't you want to be an artist?" 

Clay grinned at the question, his mood doing a quick 180, the sight almost frightening. This, this was the change. "I want to be an artist so stupidly bad. That's just... it's not the path I'm supposed to follow. I'm Clay Jensen. My parents have been calling me doc since I was a kid. My potential. I'm... I'm letting them down." His voice trailed off. Like before, the beer bottle came up to his lips, almost like a trained movement, like he just needed something to do with his hands. A nervous tick for a nerve wracking subject. 

Acting on impulse, Tony put his bottle on the pool table, sloshing drops on the felt. The clang of it drew both their attention away from the heavy words spoken just moments before. Soft blue eyes looked at him then, what seemed like seeing him for the very first time. "I don't think you're disappointing anyone," Tony said, his voice just barely above a whisper. He took a step forward as he spoke, tan hands reaching to grab the bottle from Clay's hands. "You're Clay Jensen. You're gonna take over the world. Doctor, artist... it doesn't matter." Tony was finally standing directly in front of Clay, his chest feeling a little heavy with nervous excitement. "You should just do your thing. Evil genius artist suits you." 

Clay stepped forward as Tony spoke, narrowing the space between them marginally. They were sharing the same air, the atmosphere of it excited and relieved. Tony could understand the struggle. Since graduating, he'd been contemplating starting his own little business. He'd been wanting to branch into motorcycles, loving the challenge of the smaller engine, but his dad wouldn't budge about it. The leap it took to take a step away from expectation took a lot of guts, guts Clay should be proud to have. 

For the first time since standing up, Tony remembered the shirtless nature of the taller guy. From this close, he could see the trails the sweat drops were taking and the dark hairs making their way between Clay's pecs, tracing down the middle line of perky abdominals. A trail of mystery. His tongue felt too big for his mouth, the sight sucking the moisture from his lips quickly, embarrassingly so. 

"You have the murkiest eyes. I swear, I try and decide what color they are every time I see you and I can't quite pinpoint it. I can't get it with the paints, either." Tony felt his heart stop for a second. Wait, he thought suddenly, Clay saw him? The guy he'd been pining after forever and a day tried to categorize his eyes? Never in a million years did he ever think that possible or probable, a one and a million occurrence. 

A soft touch on his cheek had him looking up, the dark brown eyes in question piercing, alight with all the emotion running through him. A cosmic collision of brown and blue sounded between them. Though the Earth didn't tilt, or stop spinning, something ethereal happened between the two boys. A shift. The touch turned to a palm, and the palm was pulling him, closing the distance between their bodies. When their lips touched for the first time, all the frustration and hopelessness of his younger years faded away, replaced by the whole feeling that kept him hanging on to the prospect of Clay Jensen, of something seemingly impossible. Something throughout it all kept him hanging on. That something real and thriving, alive and breathing the same way they were. 

Lungs burning, Tony knew they needed to pull back. Hell, they probably needed to talk about the fact that gravity pulled them together the way that it did, but he couldn't make himself do it. Clay's lips were as soft as they were flexible. Despite this being the first time they ever kissed, their lips seemed to know where to go, where to map to maximize pleasure for both of them. A peak of Clay's tongue along his bottom lips dragged a moan from Tony's throat, the last little puff of air leaving with it. The need for oxygen was too great then. The older boy pulled back first, lips just barely detaching themselves from Tony's. The palm on his cheek stayed where it was, the stickiness of skin against skin making it real, keeping the moment from becoming a fleeting fantasy. They shared air as chests heaved, each boy trying to regain some of the function of their lungs now that they weren't sealed together. 

"I uh- wow," Tony mumbled, grinning through it as their lips pressed together ever so slightly with each word. Clay huffed out a laugh, the air tickling the wetness on Tony's lip. "Wow is right. Sorry I got a little crazy there. I forgot how easy it is to just talk to you." Clay pulled completely away then, fingers trailing over his cheek as the warm hand lifted from it. Tony immediately felt the withdraw, his entire body wanting nothing more than to be pressed against Clay's again. A fantasy come true was so hard to pull away from. Yet, even more powerful than the desire to stay pressed against him, Tony wanted the realness of the situation. He didn't want this to be a fleeting consequence of one beer too many and a little mental breakdown. Years and years of yearning and wanting wouldn't be satisfied by that little kiss. Not when so many things told him Clay might feel more than Tony ever let himself believe. 

With that in mind, Tony put more distance between them, reluctant legs taking him back to the pool table. He grabbed his beer from the table and downed it, grimacing at the little bit of spittle still left in the bottle. To make sure he got what he wanted from this, Tony needed to remove himself from the situation right then and there. He could see himself easily allowing Clay to bend him over the table or on his knees, making so many more of his fantasies come true. Clearing his throat, arousal from just those thoughts coursing through him, Tony turned, picking up the glance of blue eyes right off the bat. "Thanks for the beer, Jensen. It's.. it's real good to have you back." The words were hard to find, even though so many of them were running through his head. He'd been the younger guy to Clay his whole life. He wanted to be seen as an equal, and babbling about his excitement probably wouldn't make that the case. 

Clay merely smiled, nodding a bit more enthusiastically than before. Something happened between the two of them with their shared kiss, changing both himself and Clay. Maybe he could help the older guy see how amazing he was... doctor or not. "It's nice to be back. Don't be a stranger, okay? You know where to find me," Clay replied. His fingers gripped the neck of his own beer bottle tightly, Tony watching as they relaxed and gripped again. Clay was stopping himself, his thoughts mimicking Tony's to a t. 

They stood staring at each other for a long couple of seconds. Their breaths were in time, synched, heaving in and out together. Silence that wasn't awkward hung between them until Tony's feet forced him forward, away from the dream-like situation. 

\--- 

It took Tony two days to even think about going over to Clay's again. He spent most of the time convincing himself that what happened actually happened. The dreamy situation was hard to accept, and even harder to believe. He needed the time. But, his fingers twitched, eager to be back in the garage. His self imposed isolation needed to come to an end or the stir crazy feeling would easily consume him. That and he hadn't showered, and smelling himself wasn't helping anything. 

Standing under the spray helped him come around and twenty minutes later, Tony found himself downstairs. Both his parents looked up when he walked in. A smirk slipped across his ma's lips, the woman sharing a look with her husband. "Bout time you came around, hijo. That Jensen boy has asked about you the passed two days. Bothered me in the shop and everything...." his dad said, trailing off after sharing another look with his wife. Tony immediately colored, embarrassed and not at all surprised that his parents knew about his feelings for Clay. Throughout the years, they watched him want and get excited over little things. It didn't stop the embarrassment of it, though. Closing his eyes for a second, Tony decided to tackle it head on. 

"Just taking my time, Papi. If he asks again, tell him I'll be in the garage," Tony finally replied. Both their eyes softened at his words, his ma shaking her head. "It's about time," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. Almost like she knew something he didn't. Tony rolled his eyes, but couldn't help the smile. He sometimes hated the fact that his parents knew him so well, but then again, it was nice; so nice to feel acceptance when some people in his position never would. He looked between them quickly, then rolled his eyes again, smile still firmly on his face. "Yeah, yeah. You know where to find me." 

With that, he walked out the door, body tingling and ready to be back amongst his toys and tools. The Ducati welcomed him, his hands pulling its cover sheet back to reveal its shiny glory. Satisfaction rolled over him; this place was home and nothing could take his mind off something like the shop. He shouldn't have forgotten that in the face of Clay Jensen. Maybe then they would be using time wisely, instead of just missing each other for one reason or another. A lifetime of built upon feelings... a fucking lifetime. Tony knew he couldn't let some cowardice control him into not seeing where things could go between the two of them. 

Grinning at the thought, Tony found himself to be more focused; focused on getting the bike rideable and finding out what Clay Jensen really was about. He put his headphones in his ear and began to work, nimble fingers flushing the fluids and tinkering with the bolts. The bike was coming to life before him, had been for the passed several weeks. Not too long now, he'd be able to have her on the streets, cruising around corners and flying down the straights. 

Tony was so deeply encased in his work that he didn't see a paint splattered Clay come in through the small gap of the garage door. It wasn't until long fingers tapped his shoulder that he realized someone else was there with him. He practically jumped out of his skin, his shout resonating around the garage as he pulled his headphones from his ears. "Fuck! What the fuck, Clay?" Tony babbled, reaching blindly for a cloth to cleans his hands off. Turning around, his heart about stopped. Clay wore every color of brown imaginable. His fingers were muddied, covered in different hues of the color. A hand came up, covering Tony's mouth so the laugh coming from it didn't seem as rude. He'd never seen Clay undone like this. His eyes were big, round and exhausted looking but also alert, taking everything in around him. This must be what evil genius artist looked like. A smile crept across his lips, transforming the laugh into a solid and genuine grin. 

Clay looked at him sheepishly, then returned the smile, his own version of a chuckle slipping out. "I know. I'm sorry. Never sneak up on a guy blissfully at work. I just... I'm so stuck on this color and I need you to come with me." Clay spoke the words quick, his body half turned toward the garage door, the boy preparing to take off back to his piece, nervous about it or something. Tony blinked slowly, taking all of this in. First, he couldn't deny how much he missed seeing the other guy- and it'd only been two days. Then, his mind wandered to what the paint on his face and neck would look like a little lower, the memory of Clay shirtless the few days before only fueling the vision. After letting himself enjoy it for a second, Tony finally focused on Clay's request. Shoulders shrugged as the shorter guy got up from the stool, grease covered cloth still in hand. "I don't know what you need me for, but I'll gladly help," he finally returned, thinking vaguely back to their conversation about his eyes and the color of them. 

Without any further prodding, Clay nodded, turning the rest of the way back towards his house. Long legs carried him quickly and Tony had to hurry along beside him to keep up. The Jensen's garage was just as messy as they left it, except for the corner where an easel now stood. There was paint everywhere, the tarp below the easel covered in the same murky browns, the muddied appearance looking particularly real more spread out like it was. 

A gasp left his mouth when brown eyes finally settled on the canvas himself. There, so plainly depicted on Clay's masterpiece, was the evolution of Tony Padilla. From a young kid, to an adolescent, all the way through his high school years. Like the picture of evolution of man from ape, Tony saw himself through Clay's eyes, growing up, evolving into the grease-stained hoodlum he was today. Now, seeing what was so amazingly put together on the canvas in front of him, Tony knew why Clay was covered in all the browns. The last transition from freshman to the boy he was now, had his face facing in an outward direction- this transition the only one with definable features; Clay's portrait of who he was now. "I can't get the color right," he heard Clay mumble, Tony's foggy brain just barely picking up on the words. 

Turning, Tony widened his eyes, forgetting Clay's dilemma for a singular moment. "This is me?" he asked dumbly, his own hand coming up to slap against his forehead. "I mean- yes, it's me. I just... why?" His voice was higher pitched, shock and surprise evident. 

For the first time since walking into his garage, Clay looked calm, collected in a way that was almost too adult like for the older guy. Like he saw yesterday, a serene sort of calm overtook Clay whenever he got to think or talk about his art. "At the same time I was applying for medical school, I was working on some pieces to submit to the local gallery around here. Do you remember Jessica? Her mother works there now and I've been communicating back and forth with her since my sophomore year. They give an up and coming artist a grant to showcase some of their stuff. I've applied every single year and haven't gotten it until this year. They make you draw to a theme and this one was evolution. I originally sketched out up to here on the canvas," he said, bracketing the younger Tonys with his hands. "I didn't realize it was you until I saw you the other day. I didn't realize how much I'd been watching you grow and finding more and more that I liked until I got a letter saying love and time and keen observation was put into the piece." He stopped then. Blush and sweat from the heat of the afternoon taking up his face, making him look more beautiful than ever. 

"They wanted me to add something final and when I realized it was you, I wanted to add what I saw now- the complete evolution of the adorable kid across the street." 

Tony couldn't breathe for a second, dumbfounded by each of the words that left Clay's lips. Shit like this happened in love stories, not in the life of a small town mechanic's son. Hell, he'd be cynical of all love story stuff for as long as he could remember. Yet, the fact that something like this was happening to him quickly made him a believer; his lifelong crush saw him the same way... what wasn't disgustingly romantic about that? Shaking his head of the thought, Tony closed the gap between himself and Clay, greasy fingers cupping his face so they were looking eye to eye. 

"You need some blue in it," he mumbled simply before finishing the gap off between them. This time when their lips touched, Tony knew it wasn't a dream, that this, their connection, really did live. And if the trend continued, maybe it'd live happily ever after... or something like that.


End file.
